


Day 1: Sweaters

by xsilverdreamsx



Series: 30 Day Winter Challenge [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xsilverdreamsx/pseuds/xsilverdreamsx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 1: Sweaters</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 1: Sweaters

**Author's Note:**

> So I did this [30 day winter fic challenge](http://heckyeahtumblrchallenges.tumblr.com/post/35486362064/winter-drawing-writing-challenge). Tagged as PG-13 for minor swearing.  
>  **Disclaimer** : Characters are not mine, am playing in the sandbox, etc etc.

Dean stares at what could quite possibly be the _ugliest_ sweater he has ever seen in his life.

Next to him, Sam falls off the chair laughing.

“Dude - “ Dean begins to say but he stops short when he sees Castiel looking at him expectantly, in that way that reminds him of a bird that’s tilting its head.

“I understand that this is a human custom,” Castiel says, as Dean looks down in distaste at the red bundle of wool - _were those fucking elves embroidered across the chest_ , Dean thinks - before Castiel adds, hesitantly, “I assumed this was what everyone wears during this time of year.”

Dean’s about to tell him that, no, Winchesters don’t do ugly ass sweaters (but if it was pie then Dean might reconsider), when he sees Castiel’s face. The former angel looks earnest, eager, like he’s waiting for some sort of compliment from Dean for giving him a holiday gift.

And then it hits Dean. That this act, insignificant as it might be for Dean, was a huge thing for Castiel. As if by participating in another human custom, he might come closer to understanding the very humanity he had sought to protect.

Well, _fuck_. Now Dean can’t tell Castiel the truth; that he’d rather burn the sweater than to wear it. Not when he’s has gone through the trouble of getting him a gift, even without money (Castiel has none) or his angel mojo (also none) so it’s not like he could have bought or made one out of thin air.

Gritting his teeth, Dean takes a deep breath and removes the sweater from its packaging.

He stares at it for a full minute, while shoving back down the temptation to salt and burn it.

He’s survived an apocalypse. He’s been to Hell and back (literally). He’s faced demons and ghouls and weird fucking creatures that shouldn’t exist.

He can wear a goddamn sweater.

Dean pulls it on and takes a look at himself in the mirror.

The ugliness is practically _amplified_ under the harsh motel lights.

Sam lets out another strangled noise from where he’s lying on the ground, wheezing as he attempts to laugh but ends up coughing instead.

Scowling, Dean kicks his brother. “Shut up, bitchface.”

“Sam, I have one for you as well,” Castiel tells Sam very seriously and then it’s Dean’s turn to laugh at his brother’s predicament.


End file.
